The Simpleton's Dragon Age
by The Ultimate Person
Summary: A satiracle view on Ferelden's 5th blight through the eyes of a young confused warden facing a world of monsters, choices, gay elf sex, and not that many dragons.
1. Prologue

**AN: Huh. So this is what the DAO fandom is like. Not as bad as I thought really. Save for some Mary Sue PCs and the forceful rubbing of Alistar into my face, it isn't that bad. Like everyone else out there who first got dragon age and played it straight through for an enitre week without any social interaction, I liked it. Enough to make a satire really. Probably not my best work, but hey, better out then in. In usually leads to spontaneous combustion of fangirlism. Enjoy.**

* * *

**This is a Prologue**

The story begins somewhere located in Bioware studios, working on their next social contact draining game, "Dragon Age", another planned hard-hitter with "Jade Empire", "Mass-Effect", and "KotOR: A knee to George Lucas' balls". With everything finally made and placed together, the opeing scene is the only thing left to deal with.

Bioware: Alright people we've spent several years on this, 1/4 of that time spent because SOMEONE thought people actually read the codex-

Worker: People CARE about what nugs are!

Bioware:- We have to give it an epic opening. Something awfully cryptic and mysterious.

Worker: You could probably just place in a bible passage. Bible passages usually do a good job at the creepy part.

Bioware: No, then we're just ripping off several other fantasy epics.

Worker: But isn't that Andraste character like some super magic samurai Jesus anyways? So it's like biblish-ic?

Bioware: Hm, good point. Make up some freaky verse. Ok, now every opening has to have a really cool narrator, preferably old and possibly homeless.

Worker: I found this homeless guy caressing a pack of funions!

Bioware: Good enough. Ok homeless guy, here's the verdict of your role. So you are a badass grey warden that has lived through many years of battle, taking crap from no one, stabbing them in the face all while wearing a skirt.

"Duncan": Sweett.

Bioware: Alright people, we're nearly finished. Who has the stock fotage from Lord of the Rings in digitalized form?

A worker limps in, bloody and tattered from head to toe.

Worker: Got it! ***wince*** Copyright officials are a **bitch**.

Falls over dead. Workers memory is respected by being used as a footstole.

Bioware: We have finally gotten all the compents together! I swear to you, this game is going to be-

* * *

Player: Awesome! Finally got a PS3 with Dragon age! I'm totally ready to get shut in for an entire week playing a game that will ruin my social life! WOO!

The player then snuggles into their favorite game playing couch, grabbing some Gatorade and a pillow-pet, the ultimate gaming components.

Player: LETS DO THIS MR. SNUGGLES!

Squeezes pillowpet in excitement.

Presses new game.

* * *

_"And so is the Golden City blackened_

_With each step you take in my hall_

_Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting_

_You have brought sin to Heaven_

_And doom upon all the world . . . "_

Duncan: _The chantry teach us that it is the hubris of men that brought the darkspawn._

Shows a group of eerie looking men in robes.

Mage: Hey we're in creepy black cloaks, spilling our own blood on altars for some grotesque sacrifice. So it's obviously safe for your children to hang around us!

OtherMage: Hey, what do you want us to do with this disembodied baby head?

Mage: ***cough***shushup***cough***

Duncan: _The mages sought to usurp heaven. But instead, they destroyed it. They became twisted by their own corruption and were the first of the darkspawn. They became a blight, unstoppable and relentless . . . As old dudes with bone disease are._

While threatening a group of farmers-

Mages: You will bow down to me if it's the last thing you- ***back cracks*** OW! Gagh!

Citizen: Uh, you need help there?

Mages: No, shut up! YOU WILL PAY once I find my damn Advil!

Duncan: _Or . . . Something like that. The dwarves were the first to get the screw of the pooch, from the deep roads, reaching near annihilation._

Shows the dwarves betting massacred. Also shows some really disturbing ways that you shouldn't use sharp sticks around small people.

Dwarf: Hi there. If you've noticed, you can tell that I am currently impaled on a really long spike. If you look a bit closer, you can tell that this REALLY FUCKING HURTS.

Duncan: _Then the Grey Wardens came. People from every race, men and woman, warriors and mages, barbarians and kings. All come to sacrifice everything to stem the tide of darkness . . . And prevailed._

Someone without a idea of how to hold an axe runs in.

Warden: Uh . . . I don't know which end is the actual working end, BUT IM BEATING THE HELL OUT OF YOU WITH IT ANYWAYS!

Whacks some random darkspawn into jiggly meat bits.

Duncan: _. . . Yeah, seriously_.

Next few scenes are big gush of swords, monsters, testosterone, and blood . . . So, so much blood. Even the litle pansy healers are getting splattered with little splattery bits.

Healer: Alright, I'm going to cure you of the walking bomb spell- ***SSPPLLOOSSHH*** oh . . . Never mind.

Duncan: _It has been 4 centuries since that victory. We have watched and waited for the darkspawn to return. But those who once called us heroes have forgotten. We are few now and our warnings have been ignored for too long._

Is sneaked up on by Darkspawn.

DS1: AATTAACK!

DS2: What the hell man, I thought we agreed on not announcing our ambushes!

DS1: Look, it signifies the start of the attack in the first place. What's the point of the attack if we don't even know when it's going to even happen?

DS2: Well, ok, I can understand that, but you don't go all screechy Rambo all the time. Great, now there's a sword coming toward your head, great going!

DS1: What are you- ***SSHHIICCKKK***

Proceeds in knocking down one of the darkspawn and stabbing his comrade. Makes way towards fallen one near the cliff.

DS: Hey, yeah, about that whole killing you and eating your flesh thing, that was all just some prank me and my buddy thought up, so it would be nice if you didn't kick me into a pit of death and all- ***Duncan puts foot on face*** hey, that's not very nice-

Pushes darkspawn off the cliff.

Duncan: _For I have seen what lies on the horizon. It's nasty, it's black, and smells faintly of burnt chicken. Maker, help us all._


	2. You Start Here

**AN: I must thank Numden00b for that one little review commenting on burnt chicken. Even though it was just one review, it's very appreciated. Reviews are probably the one thing that help keep my perserverance up. Well . . . that and coupled with the fact that I've alreay written 40 pages worth of this crap so, oh well. I believe that chapter is MUCH better then the prologue and will get the story going. **

**Also, just as a sidenote, has anyone ever thought that the sloth demon at the beginning of the mage origin sounded like a very old, possibly drugged Pooh? **

* * *

**Chapter 1: You Start Here**

Cuts to the character creation menu.

Player: Ok, I get it. Darkspawn, grey warden law enforcement, stuff about some old dudes, yadeyada. Really game, I'm just here for the killing stuff with fire and all. It's not like this game has so much more then that for me to care about. Alright, we'll go with a male. I'll need as much imaginary pixilated testosterone as possible to play this. And a human. Humans are nice. They usually do a lot of nice things. Like killing stuff. Also a mage-

Shows a character with dress-robe-thingy.

Player: WOW. I'm sure that robe brings ALL the malifcarium to the yard.

And damn right, there's a high chance it's better then yours. As the player goes on, they decide to name the character somewhat simply: Hugo. Bland, but much more understandable and pronounceable then Zhak'sharihotelfchick. And as per usual when it comes to EA, the player has to spend at least 10 hours figuring out which type of facial hair looks most fitting.

Player: Alright, I'm starting to wonder is this Dragon age or Sims; the stabby stabby sparkle edition where you can give your characters extremely pedophilic beards.

After creating a character that looks like a satanic Justin Timberlake with much less hair and a knack for lighting balls, the player moves on.

Duncan: _Here, over Lake Calenhad, lies Hogwar- *cough* "The Tower of Magi". It is here at the tower that Mages learn to control the powers they harness and not to their nose near certain tomes of darkness and doom. It is here that you learn. But the tower is also a prison, since Templars keep a watchful eye of corruption and sometimes bad dental hygiene._

_

* * *

_

Templar: I SAID FLOSS DAMMIT!

Mage start to floss as vigorously as possible.

* * *

Duncan: _You were brought here to the tower at a young age after showing the signs of an obvious magical ability._

* * *

Hugo: Look ma, I just turned my college tuition into a pony!

* * *

Duncan: _After many years of training, you're apprenticeship is nearly over and you have come to complete the final test._

Wakes up in the middle of the night for just no apparent reason

Hugo: Ah, hello new unproductive unimportant possibly not so life changing day.

Templars charge into the room.

Hugo: You Templars in need of anything? ***SHHING*** Alright, I'm guessing aiming sharp pointy swords towards my crotch doesn't exactly signify a good thing.

After getting waked up in the middle of the night, the player is pushed into a room filled with old people wielding staves, swords, and possibly Alzheimer's.

Gregaior: Magic exist to serve man, not to rule it. Those were the very words our super power action prophet Jesus Andraste spoke.

Olddude: That's why there's a harrowing. You must face the demon with only your will-

Hugo: Harrowing already? Only a few seconds ago did I finally get a sudden grasp of my own existence. What gives?

Irving: All must go through the harrowing to finally become a true Mage.

Gregaior: You must overcome your demon, or else turn into an abomination.

Hugo: Ok, alright, just give me a second to process all this information. Don't you think this is all a bit rushed-

Gregaior: And so, maker be with you. You shall dunk your hand into the magical waters of KNOWLEDGE mixed in with a small hint of cocaine.

Hugo: Um . . . That doesn't sound safe. Or comfortable. Or particularly legal . . . But what the heck. It's been sometime since I've dunked my hand into deep dark holes with mysterious liquids.

An unknown force of nature then punches the shit out of Zevran before he can pop up and say any sort of innuendo.

Gets transported to the fade, a very very brownish place. That is honestly the only few words you can describe it in. Apparently, when people dream in Thedas, they dream of rainbows and unicorns and dark brown depressing voids. The player just shrugs and starts killing whatever and looking at statues.

Hugo: ***pokes statue and gains 50exp*** Wow . . . the secret to enlightenment is rather convenient.

Continues on with killing little balls that seem to have some type of vendetta against men in robes and disturbing certain spirits.

Hugo: Hi grandma Josephine, I'm in the fade now. Alright grandma, you can stop throwing magical hadokun spirit orbs at me now.

Upon skipping merrily away, shooting lighting at the nearest willing face, the player comes across a little gray mouse.

Hugo: Oh, well aren't you a cute little fellow-

Mouse: So another Mage has been thrown into the fade, huh? Just as expected. Another one to be fed to the wolves.

Hugo: . . . What?

Mouse suddenly transforms to a human.

Hugo: WHAT. THE-

Mouse: Anyways, just to want to remind you that the Templars will cut you into to little Mage cubes if you take to long to shank some ugly demon dude. That's what happened to me. Now I turn into mice and stare uncomfortably and inhumanly into the eyes of new mages.

Hugo: Well, I do preferably like my body in non-cubic form. It would be probably best if I prevented that from happening.

Mouse: ***continues staring***

Hugo: Um . . . Like, right now.

Mouse: Well if that's the case, I'll follow you then, if that's ok.

Hugo: Yeah . . . I guess . . . I've always wanted a homicidal stalking mouse?

Mouse: Me too!

The player and that creepy motherf*cker go along. They find a Valor spirit, whose standing non-decrepitly in the corner.

Spirit: I'm the spirit of Templars past, and I've come to- oh sorry, wrong person. Just here to tell you that your harrowing is load of bullcrap and you should be shooting fireballs at each other and not demons.

Hugo: Oh that's nice, thanks. Hey, can I have me one of them shiny spirit weapons? They seem particularly useful against bloodthirsty demons that want to steal your attractive mage body.

Spirit: Oh, sure, maybe . . . IF YOU FIGHT ME TO THE VERY END OF YOUR EXSISTENCE!

Hugo: Yeah, well you see, while you're the very essences and spirit of valor, I'm some dude who desperately wishes they can get a refund on the tattoo department. I would think this fight for just a staff would be a little unfair-

Spirit: You can shoot little balls out of it.

Hugo: F*CK YEAH I'LL FIGHT!

The two fight to the very heart beating death . . . In which the players wins by shooting his face with random stuff repeatedly.

Hugo: Wow, for the very essence of everything valorous, you kind of sucked bowling balls.

Spirit: Shut up! Here's your stupid staff! It disappears anyways so NEH!

Hugo: ***THUNK*** Ow, you don't have to throw it!

The player can now, yes, shoot little balls out of sticks. To celebrate this wonderful discovery, the player celebrates by beating spirit wolves.

Hugo: Hear that PETA! The agony and pain of beaten spirit wolves shall echo in your dreams till the end of time itself! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Mouse: And you think I'm the creepy one.

After making a few PETA members cry in their dreams, they come across a spirit bear with various not at all notable spikes sticking out of it.

Hugo: Whoa, pooh bear, you've kind of let yourself go. I don't think that extremely long spike looks all that comfortable going up your shoulder.

Bear: See, bioware got a hold of Poohbear copyright. Poohbear now very very scary and will most likely rip out your spine and use it as a garnish for my dinner.

Mouse: Pleasant.

Hugo: No no, not pleasant. I kind of like my spine not being devoured by the nightmarish version of my childhood.

Bear: No worries, it probably isn't me that's going to kill you . . . Just your terrifying demon.

Mouse: Great.

Hugo: No, bad mouse, no sarcasm in the fade! Look, can't you at least help?

Bear: Well, I could teach one of you how to turn into a bear so you have a better chance at fighting your demon.

Hugo: Oh thank the Maker, for a second there I thought-

Bear: But I'm too tired.

Hugo: GGGAAAAGGGGHHGJFSFKA!

Mouse: Having aneurisms isn't going to solve anything.

Hugo: JUST . . . Teach him!

Bear: Then answer me these 3 riddles. A-

Hugo: A map, my tongue, a dream. THERE, now teach him how to be big and covered in hair!

Bear: Jeez, I thought we were just starting to have fun wasting time and keeping you from beating large demons with magical sticks. Here's you bear form.

Mouse turns into black bear.

Mouse: I feel kind of . . . Heavy.

Hugo: Huh, thanks for letting him turn into an angry homicidal stalker BEAR now.

Mouse: Hypocrite.

They run off, make more PETA members cry, and go face off the demon, a fiery being with lots of unessecary animated body movements

Demon: Ha! You fool. I shall now take over your body and do as many dramatic chest thrust as I want!

Hugo: That probably isn't very healthy.

Demon: Whatever. Anyways mouse, mysterious speech blah blah arrangement blah blah?

Mouse: Blah blah not hiding anymore blah blah I will face my fear blah blah!

Hugo: Ok, I did not understand a single thing you two just said. Not that I care really, I'm more interested in lightning bolting the crap out of your face.

They all start fighting. The fight goes as of the following-

Demon: Grr!

Hugo: Lighting!

Demon: ***ZAP* **Ow! That was mean!

Hugo: I know right?

The demon then dies in a very anticlimactic way. The player doesn't really feel accomplished, contrary to what Mouse believes.

Mouse: WHOA you actually survived!

Hugo: Thanks, it's really nothing-

Mouse: YOU ARE A TRUE MAGE!

Hugo: Um . . . thanks you can-

Mouse: YOU CAN BECOME A MASTER ENCHANTER!

Hugo: Ok, thanks, just . . . shut up now!

Mouse: So after that little life changing experience, you going to let me out into the real world so I could possibly betray you and reek havoc?

Hugo: Well, I don't think that- wait, what about reeking havoc?

Mouse: Oh nothing, just making a subtle references to fact that I'm probably not who I say I am and this is a big giant ruse!

Hugo: Oh. Well . . . I guess you should kind of stop that.

Mouse: BWAAAHH!

Mouse then apparently turns into some type of demon, but at this point, that's just guessing since the cameraman is being a prick.

Mouse: You have proven yourself. Usually most idiots don't think of me as a creepy homicidal demon waiting to take a hold of your soul.

Hugo: Shocker.

Mouse: The circle of Magi should be glad to have you. Now leave as I do nothing to even attempt taking over your body.

Hugo: Wait, so if this is how the Harrowing test works, with you willingly pretending to be a normal Mage and then revealing your true identity, then wouldn't that mean that some of the mages and Templars had to pay you so that you would go along with the act? Because, if you really wanted to take my body, you wouldn't have left me to go off. And aren't demons suppose to be ruthless beings who will stop at nothing to cross the veil and attain power? Therefore, wouldn't that make the circle hypocrites since they would have had to correspond with demons and pay them a tremendous amount of-

Mouse: Ok, shut up now. WHITE FLASH!

Hugo: But-

The player is then kicked into white oblivion, dazed, confused . . . And they'll probably stay that way throughout the duration of the game.


	3. Magicy Magic Stuff

**AN: *Gasp* What's this? TUP actually published a 3rd chapter? Blasphemy! I really have to thank roxfox1962 and Enaid Adeyrn for reviewing. And I honestly apologize for any scolding of spellcheckers or dusting of moniters. It helps me continue this tale of nitpicking plot events and poking of Alistar's sexuality. I really appreciate the reviews. So onwards. I think that this chapter got a bit more on the "random" side then I wanted it too.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Magicy Magic Stuff**

Jowan: Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hugo. Hugo. Hugo. Hugo. Hugo-

Hugo: Jesus, stop poking me in the eye like that!

Jowan: Hey, you're alive! Sorry Templars, this one is good.

Templar: Aww, but it was my turn to slice his head off!

Templar2: Come on Jimmy, back to haphazardly snorting lyrium for you.

Walks away in whiny sadness.

Jowan: Soooooooo, what did you do? In the Harrowing? Were there other spirits? Monsters? Blood-chilling demons? Haunting from the past hunting you down? Every nightmare come to tear at your very limbs? DID HALF NAKED SANTA CLAUSE RIDE IN ON A GRIFFIN TO FEAST UPON YOUR-

Hugo: Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Hold up. Calm down there Jeremiah.

Jowan: It's Jowan.

Hugo: Sure, ok, whatever. Really, in my personal opinion, it wasn't much. Just poked some statues. Punched some spirit puppies in the face. Was stalked by a creepy homicidal mouse demon in disguise that was waiting to devour me. Eh, I've seen worse on reality TV.

Jowan: You should consider yourself lucky. At least you were able to participate in the Harrowing. I'm not even sure if the circle will even bother to put me through my Harrowing.

Hugo: Might have something to do with that incident with the goat-

Jowan: We agreed not to talk about that! Anyways, I'm worried that they might not ever put me through the Harrowing. What if . . . The circle decides that I should turn into a tranquil?

Hugo: No worries. You just have to get your own lead role as a character in a videogame. They'll call it "The Legend of Jowan: The guy who likes to poke his friend's eye out repeatedly".

Jowan: Nah, that doesn't sound very good.

Hugo: Really? ***rubs abused eye*** I think its fitting.

Jowan: I should probably speak to Cullen about this-

Hugo: The Templar or the gay sparkling one?

Jowan: The one that isn't a failed twilight joke. While I'm at it, you should probably get to Irving.

Before so however, the play spends most of their freetime ruffling through people's storage drawers and taking in their possessions

Hugo: Vandalism of other peoples private owning; it gets you stuff. ***smiles chessily at camera***

Billy: Hey, what the hell are you doing in my underwear drawer?

Hugo: Er . . . Stand still Billy . . .

A few minutes later, the player walks in on the Irving, Gregaior, and Duncan. The player starts coughing due to the large amount of dust each old guy has gathered over the years.

Duncan: Look, the Grey Wardens are in dire need of more recruits.

Gregaior: Haven't we sent enough of our finest mages to battle? You just need one to make things explode into random jibbly bits of jelly!

Hugo: I'm here as you ordered. And I promise this staff is mine, I totally didn't steal it from someone's possessions.

Gregaior: Wait a minute, where's Billy? And . . . Is that blood coated on your staff?

Hugo: What, psh, huh, no! It's completely safe. ***Wipes a bit of it on Gregaior's cheek*** There. See?

Gregaior: . . . Uh?

The first enchanter ignores Gregaior's desperate search for a clean towel and turns towards the player.

Irving: I'm glad you could make it Hugo. I'd like you to meet Duncan of the Grey Wardens.

Hugo: The homeless guy wearing a skirt?

Duncan: Its a battle robe.

Hugo: Surree it is. So, I've been hearing around the tower that some recruitment has been going on.

Duncan: Yes indeed. To fight the dark spawn. You know, these darkly toned ugly mutated men who follow an towering evil lord that echoes within their minds as well as ourselves.

Hugo: Wow, that description sounds just so familiar. I swear, I think you just described the orcs and Sauron from Lord of the-

An unknown force of presence then punches the player in the gut for even daring to mention a certain trilogy.

Duncan: You ok son?

Hugo: ***While on the floor*** Nah, just . . . bleeding internally. Go on.

Irving: Well Hugo, I just want you to know that now you've completed your Harrowing, you are free to more rites. Such as fighting for Ferelden and using the men's bathroom. For now, you should lead Duncan to his quarters.

Hugo: Good. Let's go Duncan. Follow as I awkwardly and painfully crawl towards your room.

After an hour or two of slowly trudging, the player leads Duncan to his room so he can change into a prettier dress.

Duncan: ITS A BATTLE ROBE.

Uhuh, sure. Player manages to get back on their feet as Jowan pops up from out of nowhere.

Jowan: Um, can you talk for a few seconds?

Hugo: What's with the suspicious whispering? Because usually whispering like that means-

Jowan: Come with me if you want live.

Hugo: -Yeaahh, that.

They go to the SUPER SECRET ROOM which is just two door away from Irving.

Jowan: I just found out that the circle will turn me into a tranquil because they think I'm a blood Mage!

Hugo: Tranquil?

Jowan: You know, those guys who are devoid of emotion and run into walls as a free time.

Hugo: Oh, I'm sure having your face being in contact with a wall isn't that bad.

Jowan: You don't understand! If I become a tranquil, the circle will strip me of all of my emotions. I won't be able to have a happy life with my love, Lily.

Lily: Sup?

Hugo: Oh good maker's nose job, that disfigured thing? I don't know why anyone would want to put themselves anywhere near that! No offence.

Lily: S'Alright.

Jowan: Can you help me destroy my phylactery and escape? I swear, afterwards, me and Lily will just lead a normal life, away from magic.

Hugo: What! No more placing "walking bomb" on squirrels and stuffing them into Gregaior's pants?

Jowan: I'm sorry my friend, but its for the best. We'll have to get through the door in the storage room. We'll need a rod of fire.

Hugo: But it's guarded.

Jowan: Its just a door.

Hugo: Yes, a door that will probably shoot lasers at your genital if you go near it. But it's not like I'm getting any other quest lines, so I'll do it anyways.

Jowan: Thank you! Occasional purely friendship based man-kiss time!

Hugo: Alright, I thought we discussed that.

Walks instantly back two doors down to the first enchanter.

Hugo: So yeah, Jowan is trying to escape after learning he was going to become a tranquil.

Irving: That was . . . Sudden.

Hugo: He and his girl plan on breaking into the storage and destroying his phylactery-whatever so they can live up on the prairie or something.

Irving: That's no good. I guess we have to catch them in the act then, with you going along the plan with them. But . . . How did this pop up out of nowhere?

Hugo: I'm just an ass like that.

Irving: Oh ok. That's nice.

Goes to tranquil Owain, who's head is currently running into a wall.

Hugo: Hey, can I get a rod of fire?

Owain: What for?

Hugo: So I could, uh, learn about stuff . . . about fire and burning . . . Stuff.

Owain: Fine then. Just sign form with your signature, a signature, you original location, date of birth, location of where your parents conceived you, your GPA, security number, any nasty diseases you've required, your first girlfriend, location of all your most well hidden and well kept secrets, and whether or not you cried when Bambi's mom died.

Hugo: Hm . . . Not sure if I should write when I was born . . . But what the heck.

Goes to Lenorah, someone wrinkly and senile enough to sign the contract.

Hugo: Yadeyada, you're keeping spiders in your crook, you're to lazy to actually clear them out yourself, blah blah, I'll do it if you sign this form.

Lenorah: I-

Hugo: Thanks for key, I'll be on my way.

A minute later-

Hugo: Spiders gone. Thanks for the sign. Here's a donut I found on some dead dude.

Lenorah: But- I - wha- you . . .

Shrugs and just eats the donut, having nothing better to do then just stand and be all NPC like. Taste like peaches.

Goes to Owain with the signed form.

Hugo: Here's the form.

Owain: Well then. I believe everything is in order. Here's your rod of fire. Don't mix it up with your other rod though. Bad things happen.

Leaves Owain to be intimate with the wall and runs back to Jowan.

Hugo: I've got the key!

Jowan: Occasional pu-

Hugo: No, Jowan, no occasional purely friendship based man kiss.

Jowan: Oh . . .

Hugo: Lets go.

They sneak to the phylactery with other mages not giving a crap if their actually doing anything suspicious. Sneakily. Dun dun dundundun dun duun dundundun-

Hugo: Dananaaa dananaaa, dun dundundun-

Jowan: Can you please stop that?

Hugo: Sorry. So what now?

Lily: This door requires a mage and a templar to open. I'll speak out the password while you do your . . . Um . . . magicy magic stuff.

Hugo: My . . . what now?

Lily: Create fire. Throw a blast of arcane energy. Turn water into wine. Pull kittens out of your hat and make them explode. I don't know, just do whatever you do!

Lily then speaks the password while the player ponders on which spell they'll use.

Hugo: Ok then . . . my most powerful spell: ACTIVATING MAGICY MAGIC STUFF, FWOOSH!

Lily: Is he mocking me?

Jowan: No honey, it's a compliment.

After fwooshing the door open, the daring trio make their way in. They eventually realize the rod doesn't work.

Lily: Oh no! The Templars made the keys in a way that so that Mage powers are useless!

Hugo: Oh no shit Sherlock, really? Cause obviously Templars would feel their doors were secured around people that light can light their balls on fire simply by hiccupping.

Lily: We're doomed, we can't get through!

Hugo: Actually, I noticed that there's a door right there, to our right-

Lily: We're finished. It ends here! There's no way!

Hugo: Um, door. Like right there.

Lily: WE'RE THROUGH! ***THUNK*** ow!

Hugo: Door. Bitch. THERE.

Lily: Oh.

Jowan: Well what are the chances that it will even open?

Already opens up the door with the rod.

Hugo: You see, we use magical sticks to unlock guarded treasury, not to pick our noses.

For the time, they player goes about the dungeon, killing things with magic and an inept girl who apparently thinks fist work against magic spirit guardians better then giant balls of lightning. The writer playing the player does not want to actually write out what goes on through the storage room because Jowan and Lily are the blandest NPCs ever. Having them as companions is the equivalent to carrying around two giant pet rocks. Them having sex together probably looks the same as rubbing two pieces of whole wheat toast together very slowly.

Jowan: Excuse me, but are you done yet?

. . .

Jowan: . . .

. . . Vveerry slloowwlly.

While Jowan throws a hiss fit, the player comes across a book case.

Hugo: Hm, this can't be it. Mages being powerful and extraordinarily intelligent beings, I'm sure they were able to make up a clever devise to hide their sacred storage of phylacteries that can define life or death of any mage-

Jowan: Its behind this bookcase!

Hugo: . . . Wha?

Jowan: We just have to use the fire rod to open it up! Hey, are you alright?

Hugo: I'm sorry, my logic is just recovering after getting receiving a gigantic blow to the face. Oww.

They just ever so conveniently grab the vial that's just sitting on a display podium and drop it. Conveniently. The player then figures out why Gregaior just hates his job so much.

Jowan: Yes, I am finally free!

Hugo: Uh, and you also kind of left a huge blotch there of blood. YOUR blood.

Jowan: Psh, how are they going to find out? By using napkins?

Hugo: MAAGGIICCAALL napkins!

They go out anyway, leaving the player wondering if they really do have enchanted napkins. Upon entering the surface, Templars surround them.

Gregaior: Alright blood Mage, we've caught you "red-handed!"

Templar2: Heh heh, nice one Greg.

Irving: I am sorry Jowan.

Gregaior: For dabbling in the blood magic Jowan, you are hereby sentenced to a death sentence. Lily here has betrayed the chantry by helping him. Send her to Aenora.

Lily: No, not the mages prison! Please!

Jowan: Hey, you guys step away from her!

Out of nowhere, he takes out a knife from his breast pocket.

Hugo: Ok Jowan, it's best if you keep sharpy pointy things away from-

Jowan: TASTE TYPE O BITCH!

Without warning, he stabs his hand, killing and knocking out the Templars with his blood. The player is trying to hold their jaw in place.

Lily: You- you killed them . . . With your blood!

Jowan: Oh, there's only minor splotches here here here here here here here and here!

Lily: You lied to me!

Jowan: Yeah . . . Well . . . Kind of sort of. Mage weekly rated blood mages as the top sexiest type of mage.

Lily: Get away from me!

Jowan then starts running away like a little bitch that doesn't plan heist out well. The player is trying to pick their jaw from the floor.

Gregaior: I was never expecting that!

Hugo: Oh yeah, never expected blood mages to use actual blood. And to think, this whole time I thought it was just kool aid- HOW COULD YOU NOT!

Gregaior: We should of been able to act sooner if it weren't for this apprentice! No, you had to be all old man-mc-Jenkins and take a nap while Templars got blood spots launched at them like missile command! And you even let them into the repository yourself!

Irving: It was under my command.

Gregaior: Do you know how many ancient artifacts we have stored down there? He could of done just about anything! "Uh oh, spaghetti-os, I just tripped over the plague, oh silly-Billy!"

Irving: Its not like he took anything. Isn't that right?

Hugo: Of course not. Oh and the staff behind my back didn't come from the repository, I just like keeping large suspicious sticks at my side.

Duncan: Pardon me, but this mage has shown some remarkable dedication, what with him willing to backstab his best friend to kiss up to the authority. I would like to bring him to the Grey Wardens.

Gregaior: Hey, did anyone just see that other guy with the cut wrist run out? The angry psychotic one? I did! He looked very angry and psychotic!

Duncan: There are things out there more dangerous then blood mages with emotional issues. No, we need Mages with sociopath and kleptomaniac issues!

Hugo: I do happen to excel at those things.

Irving: That does indeed sound like an excellent idea. Though I might have to think about that for a bit.

Hugo: Come on Irving, I have to join the wardens! The storyline permits me to! Please, I'll even use Mr. Pouty face.

Irving: Oh, I don't think that by doing that you'll-

Hugo: ***Pouty Face***

Irving: Aww . . . Alright. You may go.

Gregaior: Are you serious? You can't let him go just because he seems to excel at making his lower lip quiver! Especially after he eradicated the storage rooms, let loose a blood Mage and -

Player holds up a glass of red kool-aid.

Gregaior: ***High Pitch Squeal*** OH SWEET ANDRASTE'S TAMPON, GET THAT AWAY FROM ME!

* * *

**AN: Is it just me, or does it seem like just about every mage Warden is mentally unstable?**


	4. Welcome to Ostagar, pt 1

**AN: To the few readers I have, I apologize for being a tad bit late then usual. School work, life, and spontaneous dog vomit always seem to come up. Thanks to CarrotStructure, Goddess of Coffee, roxofx1962, and Enaid Adeyrn for reviewing the last chapter. This chapter might test your loyalty. I swear, this was so far the longest and hardest chapter that took me to write. Even so, it turned out WAY more scattered and out place then I would of liked. This is mainly due to the fact that it just shows all the random stuff you're able to do at camp and really doesn't hold any important signifigance. Hopefully, its not too much of a dissapointment. If so, I promise the next part will be better. **

**Also, has anyone noticed that the most subtly (or not subtle) promiscious class in the entire game seems to be the mages? Just look at the Warden, Morrigan, Anders, and god-forbid, even Wynne (especially around Alistair). *Sigh* This is what happens when you decide to stick loads of sexual repression inside a tower.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Welcome to Ostagar (You Unlucky Bastard)**

**Part 1: The Camp**

Somewhere, within the darkest depths of the author's subconscious, a thin, pointy eared figure with facial tattoo issues is found standing next to a much shorter figure who seems to have a knack for secretly conversing amongst shadow-y scenes and touching her fingers together in an evil fashion.

Garthic: Ah, he got past the mage origin. And with at least one testicle still intact. Impressive really.

Author: Hmph. One too many blood jokes for my taste personally.

Garthic: You still must admit, many others before him failed to make it this far. I have faith that this one might be successful.

Author: Yes, yes, that much is obvious. Yet there is still so much more to come. So much more to do, to explore. He has yet to truly feel PPPAAAIIINNN!

Garthic: Wow, that was an extremely creepy and well drawn-out version of the word pain.

Author: I know, right? I've been working on it all day. Anyways, this is only just the beginning. The worse is yet to come.

Garthic: The worse?

Author: Do not fret. What with only 40 hours tacked onto you, there is still much you don't know. The opportunities must be explored.

Garthic: Alright now, lets not get too ahead of ourselves. Just look at the poor sap. He has absolutely no idea about the amount of consequences and bad sexual innuendos he's in for. If anything, let me at least lend him my sympathies.

Author: No, I can't have you mucking up my final project. And what would you know? You're just a prototype.

Garthic: But I know-

Author: An incomplete structure. A failure. You see, after several attempts, I have finally found the perfect solution. He shall be subjected to every single bit of torture I have in mind, and no one will stop me from doing so!

Garthic: And let me guess, you're going to shoo me away as you gloat, laugh evilly, and choke on your own spit a little while at it?

Author: Bingo.

* * *

The player and Duncan apparently walk several hundred miles on foot to Ostagar, since there seems to be no sign of any other fast use of transportation, mainly passing the time with campfire songs and comparing who has the sexier dress.

Duncan: I really don't like you.

The two eventually arrive at Ostagar, some large tevinter ruins fit enough to hold a cinematic major plot point.

Duncan: Here is Ostagar, located around the Kocari Wilds. It was built for the tevinter Empire as protection. Though went a but out of use after super magic Jesus Andraste came up. Now the grey warden are expecting an attack. Ostagar is where the bulk of the horde is expected. We arn't much, since we consist of a few random guys with sharp sticks and this one blonde dude-

Alistair: So . . . Have any of you licked a lamppost in winter?

Wardens: ***annoyed groan***

Duncan: But everyone is here. So there's a very highly unlikely ultra slim chance that the fate of all of Ferelden will lie with just you two, a new recruit and a slightly dim blonde guy.

Hugo: I know, Ferelden would definitely be screwed if the fate of all of Ferelden were to just somehow lie in the hands of me and Alistair.

Both: Ha ha ha!

FORESHADOWING: Its cheap, ok? The duo is then approached by Cailen, who shouldn't be able to move that well due to the threat of massive golden shoulder pauldrons smashing against his face.

Hugo: Hey look, I see a pretentious asshole coming our way. And it's shiny! Oooh!

Duncan: King Cailen, I-

Cailen: Welcome back Duncan. It's good that you've had EVERY SINGLE Grey Warden IN ALL OF FERELDEN come to the upcoming battle. It's not like we're risking ALL of the wardens lives in this ONE SINGLE battle was at all UNNESSACERY and RISKY!

Hugo: Hey, what's with the random escalations in your voice?

Cailen: Ah, and this must be the new recruit. Welcome to Ostagar, I'm king Cailen.

Hugo: Hi. I shoot spirit orbs at people's faces. Half the time because I was bored.

Cailen: Fantastic! We could use mages like that. All we have so far are old wrinkly ones with some obsession with griffons.

* * *

Wynne: How sad and pitiful. The Grey Wardens are not as they use to be. Flying high above on griffons, slaying from the skies, bird-crapping whoever gets in their way!

Warden: *puts down lunch* I'm sorry, bird crapping what?

* * *

Hugo: Ah. She can knit one hell of a sweater though.

Cailen: Huh. I'm sorry to make this short, but I must take my leave to preparations. Logain seeks to yet again bore me with his logical, important, and very necessary battle strategies, psh!

Hugo: Sounds assured.

Cailen: I mean, we've already beat the darkspawn the last time. I'm sure we will again. That's sure to slim off at least 120 hours of gameplay.

Duncan: Disappointed your majesty?

Cailen: You know, I was expecting a one of those great epic-worthy battles, where a fabled king rides in with the Grey Wardens against a tainted god, possibly having the king get crushed limb by limb in a horribly painful and messy way ha ha . . . Wait . . .

Cailen wonders a bit for a moment while the player walks off with Duncan.

Duncan: The danger doesn't seem too bad right now, but I know there's an archdemon behind this.

Hugo: No worries. We just stab it a bit, go phew pew pew at it, and we're all good, right? No other consequences or damning fates I should know about.

Duncan: Yeah . . . Phew phew . . . Damning fates . . . About that now, I-

Merchant: Now selling new battle robes! Want to look manly and tough, yet still have that nice breeze blowing through your legs? Buy them now!

Duncan: Ooh! Uh, go explore, see Alistair, ritual preparations, all that crap, I'll see you later!

Hugo: Wait, but-

Before being able to respond, Duncan is already naked and throwing as much money at the merchants face as possible. It is not a site for children to see. The player shrugs and takes some time to explore. First encounters a group of mages in the middle of some type of ritual.

Mages: Oohla shak kisstra ell kooma-

Hugo: Ooh, a raver mage party! Hey guys, I've got some alcohol and sacrificial nugs to spare!

Templar: I'm sorry, but you cannot interrupt the mages.

Hugo: Well poo, its you guys again. What are these mages trying to do anyways?

Templar: Their trying to reach the fade. We can't let anything mess it up.

Hugo: Well that's just complete bull. I've been to the fade and all it takes is some cleans hands and a bowl full of lyrium. Hell, Lenny over there isn't even trying, he's just flailing his arms in random directions while chanting random sounds just to sound mysterious!

Lenny: Ishmay el quadray ooh laka ishkar ooh ba-

Hugo: Lenny, cut the crap.

Lenny: Alright, alright, I'm just kind of in it for the cool dresses. ***is assaulted by the rest of the mages*** OW!

Hugo ***to templar*** See, I have cleverly pointed out a mage proclaiming falsehood in any sort of fade ritual going on within these premises. I have then proven myself worthy to participate in the shaking of booties and the getting of shit-faced, mage style.

The player is then urged kindly away with swords. Lots and lots of swords. The player then continues to look for something to entertain themselves until they can find a certain blonde haired potato head. Comes across a kennel master and a kennel full of physically disproportioned dogs.

Hugo: Aww, what a cute little pupsy woopsy woo!

KennelM.: He's even cuter when he's nuzzling the large intestines of your enemies.

Hugo: Aww, what a- wait, what?

KennelM: This here is a mabari war dog. The smartest and most vicious animal out there on the battlefield. Bred by the tevinter mages themselves. They are known for being able to carry out extremely complicated orders.

Hugo: So . . . Could I do something like order him to fetch me some eggs?

KennelM: He'll fry them and give an extra side of bacon along with the latest article Mage seasonal clothing weekly.

Hugo: Yyeess. Alright, what seems to be the problem.

KennelM: Well, you see his last owner died in the last battle. And apparently, according to doggy over here, darkspawn blood taste like chocolate and rainbows. I fear he might grow too ill over time. Say, you going to the Kocari Wilds anytime soon?

Hugo: Yeah, probably to hunt darkspawn and overall release homicidal rage. Why?

KennelM: You just need to get this special flower to heal him.

Hugo: Flower?

KennelM: Yeah.

Hugo: To combat against an extremely fast acting, dangerously fatal corruption, all you need . . . Is a pretty flower?

KennelM: Yeah pretty much.

Hugo: Huh . . .

A few minutes later, outside the kings tent-

King'sGuard: And stay out! Don't come randomly barging in again!

Hugo: You are at a lost simpleton! You have turned down the chance to obtain-

King'sGuard: ***Picks up an easily throw-able piece of fruit of the ground***

Hugo: -the powers of which these flowers are foretold! You yet to foresee the power, the ability, the- ***THUMP*** Ow! Alright, jesus, I'm going!

The player then walks away angrily, swapping up the several dozen basket of daffodils spent hours collecting. Upon doing so, end up stumbling into Wynne.

Hugo: Oh god no, more old people! I thought I've come across enough of your kind!

Wynne: . . . Excuse me, what?

Hugo: Oh, sorry, I'm just getting use to not smelling death and Viagra everywhere I go. Hugo.

Wynne: Wynne. I must congratulate you on your harrowing. More so impressive that you managed to become a grey warden afterwards.

Hugo: Yeah, it required a bit more betrayal and gushy blood bits then I would of wanted though.

Wynne: . . . WHAT?

Hugo: What? Oh yeah, so you'll be helping the in the battle right?

Wynne: Uh, oh, um, yes actually. Mages have always been known for turning the tide within blights. Now, that part about gushy blood bits, can you-

Hugo: Well, its been nice talking, but I prefer not be around people, who seem like they're about to die of heart attack after sneezing, for too long. Bid you ado.

The player then leaves the premise and a very confused and a bit disturbed Wynne. Passes by a few morale raising priest.

Priest: Death is nothing to be a afraid of! It's just . . . Really really painful and usually involves a dagger to the colon.

Before getting too bored, a fellow trapped in a cage seems to catch the player's attention.

Prisoner: Do you happen to be the one to execute me?

Hugo: No. I'm sorry, it's just that I don't usually come across very many bloody naked men trapped in cages. Also, nice underwear. Really rocking the man-thong.

Prisoner: . . . Thanks?

Hugo: Anyways, how did you get in there?

Prisoner: I had a key to a chest. When I went after it, the army thought I was deserting.

Hugo: Well . . . Were you planning on doing so eventually?

Prisoner: Maybe. Cause like every other man, I just LOVE to get my bowels slashed open.

Hugo: How about you hand me the key and I'll find a way to help you.

Prisoner: Really? Oh, you are so kind. Here ***passes over key*** I don't want it anymore anyways. Now if you can- Hey . . . What are you doing with that really sharp knife? OH N-

Guard runs towards the dead prisoner and a blood coated player.

Guard: Hey, what's going on here?

Hugo: Oh yeah, I slashed his bowels open.

Guard: Oh ok, that's nice. Run along then.

The player then skips along, covered in prisoner blood, humming the tune to Elmo's world. The entire camp the feels uncomfortable.

Before going to Alistair, player decides to at least take a look at the two other companions that are most likely going to die inevitable and hilarious deaths. There's Ser Jory, the knight from Redcliff.

Hugo: Hot damn!** *poke*** It's HUGE. How much do you think it weighs? 10 lbs? Maybe 11lbs.?

Jory: That's my nose. Which I would prefer you would stop poking it.

Hugo: ***Poke***

Jory: Seriously, I-

Hugo: ***poke* *poke* *poke* *poke* *poke* *poke* *poke* *poke*-**

Then there's Daveth, the "fellow". Probably isn't considered the brightest shade of grey.

Daveth: You sure you don't want to get together for a good time? I mean, that pretty face of yours could be decorating a few darkspawn spears soon.

Girl leaves.

Daveth: Oh no, that was a compliment! I particularly like girls with spear faces! Much better then axe faces or shield faces, I heard they're the slutty ones. Oh, not that I mind promiscuous weaponry or anything-

After annoying the piss out of knights and laughing at sad lonely fellows, the player finally decides to stop stalling. Finds Alistair, who looks to be sculpted out of fine features, soft blond hair, and 100% pure estrogen brigade bait and adorkability.

Mage: I will not be abused this way!

Alistair: Yes, I was abusing you by sending a you a letter. Oh, I shall shun my domestic letter abusing ways!

Mage: Your glibness does you no credit.

Alistair: Ah, and for a second there, I thought we were getting along just fine. I was even going to name one of my children after you. The grumpy one. Yes, good little grumpy, spending his life brooding, being annoying, and wondering why woman aren't attracted to him.

Mage: Fine, fine, I'm going!

Alistair: ***to player*** You know, the one thing I like about blights is how it brings people together.

Hugo: I . . . see?

Alistair: Eventually, we'll all just sit in a circle and hold hands and sing kumbya while the archdemon plays the ukulele.

Hugo: . . . W-What? Sorry, usually I'm the one that says things that people can't really respond to.

Alistair: Then we'll get along fine. Hey, I know you. You're the new recruit Duncan was talking about.

Hugo: Why indeed. Hugo Amell, newly harrowed mage and initiate warden with a knack for lightning bolts and sticking my genitals in anything that moves.

Alistair: Ah. I'm Alistair, junior warden and escort with a like for good hair products and prefers not to do . . . That . . . Last thing you said. Just curious, have you ever fought darkspawn?

Hugo: Those guys that look like zombies/orcs/ghouls/extremely burnt bacon pieces? No, you?

Alistair: Quite a bit. I will admit, I was terrified when I came across my first. Eventually they all start looking like very animate lumps of coal.

Hugo: Huh. So what now?

Alistair: Well, I suggest first wrangling Duncan into his new "battle robe" before scaring the entire army away with his nakedness. Then, we should talk to him about the Joining. Lead the way.

And the manly duo were off.

* * *

**I am so sorry.**


	5. Wild as Oatmeal

**AN: Well to all of those who actually read this, I just want to remind everyone that I have the worst update track record, due to the fact that I trip over writers block and haven't been getting a nutritional diet of inspiration. So this fic will probably continue to go at a rather sluggish pace. *shrugs***

**And yes, as you may notice that I bash a bit on Jory and Daveth. Well, I guess it's less like bashing and more so like repeatedly curb stomping into pudding. Sorry, but it couldnt be helped. It's like they have the words "kick me" engraved into their buttocks. Also it fits. Why? Because A. Hugo is a sociopathic jack-off and B. Comedy is like Tragedy, but a lot funnier. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Ch. 4, Wild as Oatmeal**

Within the still dark subconscious sanctums of the author's mind, the same figure with facial issues is sitting in the corner, rubbing his fingers against his temples.

Garthic: . . . "Adorkability"?

Author: In my personal opinion, it sums up the character quite nicely. What else was I going to say? Potential fluffiness? Woobiefication? Bishoujen?

Garthic: You don't even know what that word means.

Author: Yeah . . . But it sounds pretty.

Garthic: Ok, ok, just . . . Stick with adorkability.

Author: Glad you see it my way. Really.

Garthic: Anyways, just want to remind you that we're, oh 4 MONTHS behind schedule, just incase you still somewhat cared.

Author: I've been distracted lately.

Garthic: Yes, yes, because you apparently "have a life". And by life, I mean PS3. And by PS3, I mean Dragon Age 2. And by Dragon Age 2, I mean "Magic explode-y shit: the sequel".

Author: Hey, those 70 hours of excessive gaming were purely for future reference! As well as relishing in my un-healthy fixation for elven pretty boys and mirror obsessed mages.

Garthic: Ah. Important as always.

Author: Besides, many more things besides magic end up exploding. Like barrels and the occasional chantry.

Garthic: Chantry?

Author: Oh yeah, remember Anders?

Garthic: The funny blonde guy with an interest in kittens and softly knit fur coats?

Author: Yeah, apparently he uses flowers and magical poo to blow up an entire church. It was all very melodramatic.

Garthic: Fftheack- WHAT? A spoiler alert would have been much appreciated there.

Fansthathaven'tplayedDA2: ***SNAP***

Garthic: Oh. Great. And you just broke their brains. I hope your happy.

Author: Yes. Very much in fact. So much, that I'll right down to writing again.

Garthic: Maker, I'm going to have drink something illegal after this, aren't I?

* * *

Last time we left off from our adventures with the wonderful fantastical and overall awesome heroic hero-

Alistair: Ahem?

-And Alistair, the two had just met, getting along as you would expect a partial rookie templar and a mentally unstable mage would. Like peaches. The player takes this moment to give Alistair a little templar-ing advice.

Hugo: Maybe you should consider grring a little, you know, for a bit of de-moralization.

Alistair: "Grring?" I doubt that word existed. Ever.

Hugo: You know, growling. It's a really effective method actually. In the circle, things like demons, wild animals, and templar sexual harassment become instinctive to us mages, so its like a mental alarm. We tend to get a bit jumpy over these sort of things. If you try going after a calm mage, they'll just shoot in the face before you could do anything.

Alistair:Thanks. I'll check my talent tree later to see if . . . "rape-y growling" is available.

They manage to pass by a few people before leaving.

Hugo: Oh hey Wynne, were going to go out into the wilds to rip the legs off of puppies and then beat the crap out of darkspawn with said dismembered puppy legs.

Wynne: Oh ok. You kids have fun now. Make sure you're back in time for the bloody onslaught of invading darkspawn. Everyone is going for tea afterwards.

Hugo: Naturally.

The unlikely duo than search for the other two recruits. They find Jory hanging around bunch of old ladies sermoning about holy stuff and generally being holy-ish

Hugo: Hey nose- uh, ginger! Dsposable temporary character! Josie, Joseph, Jeremiah, WHATEVER THE HELL YOU ARE, get over here!

Jory: ***sighs and walks over*** Ser Alistair.

Alistair: I see you have met Ser Amell.

Jory: Oh so very sadly. ***Swats away finger aimed at his nose***

They then find Daveth, whose doing . . . Something.

Hugo: DAVETH, put that down!

Daveth: ***waves around enchanted fiery death weapon*** But its so prreeettty.

After gathering all of their little quirky miniboss squad, the four make their way over to Duncan, who is very fortunately, fully clothed.

Duncan: Ah, Alistair. I see you've gathered all of the recruits. How do they all seem to fair?

Alistair: Well - erm . . . -

Hugo: ***To Jory*** So how does it feel to be a doomed temporary character? Scratch that, how those it feel to be balding? Your wife must find that extremely sexy. Or how about the fact that you swing a sword like a goat with polio syndrome? Also extremely sexy. To goats I mean.

Alistair: -Err . . . They haven't eaten each other yet, so I would count that as a plus.

Duncan: Fantastic. So I take it you're all ready to take on some ritual preparations?

Hugo: I take it that we're going to end up killing a crap load of stuff?

Duncan: Well, that's part of it of course. You know, you're just going to spend the majority of this game stabbing things and having freaky mage sex.

Duncan: Anyways, you first need to find darkspawn blood. Despite the fact that you'll be absolutely drenched in the stuff after plowing through about 500 of them, you should probably take these convenient little vials. Well, unless you want to lick yourself throughout the ritual.

Hugo: Ooh, I would-

Alistair: No. NO.

Duncan: Also, you'll need to look out for some old treaties. They're extremely important, so that's why we placed them within an blantly obvious unprotected open area.

Hugo: Oh that's- not particulary the best idea.

Duncan: Why not?

Hugo: Ok, so you let an extremely important document out in the wilds. With no protection against the weather, wild animals, thieves, or teenagers that just like to piss on things. Not even a well placed bush to hide it. ouldn't you even be mildly concerned?

Duncan: ***shrug*** It'll be fun. Its like a scavenger hunt. But with things trying to eat you.

Hugo: I'm EXTREMELY glad you're not a children's summer camp councilor.

The player soon realizes all this silly logic stuff is giving them a migraine and would very much prefer to get to the kill stab stabbing. That always seems to be much more interesting. They check to see if anyone lit on fire before heading towards the wilds. They go into the kocari wilds. You can tell at this point that the developers are really trying to impress you once you see the deluded brown stale forest land with trees. Lots and lots of TREES.

Alistair: So, the kocari wilds. Lots of trees. Very . . . pretty. Really pretty . . . trees.

Hugo: Alright Alistair, while you go lick trees, I'll gather the rest of the party to kill every single natural predator within a 10 mile radius. WOOT FOR DESTROYING NATURAL ECOSYSTEMS!

And just in time, a group of wolves show up out of complete nowhere, who apparently prefer their mage meat sauteed in butter and lightly salted.

Daveth: Hey guys, I just found out if you hit them a lot with big stuff, they die!

Hugo: No ***WHACK*** really? You know, for a second I thought that if I just sit on them for a while they'll, just roll over and die.

Alistair: That's not very effective.

Hugo: YOU NO TALKING! YOU STARE AT TREES!

After a few tiring minutes of fighting, the group manages to make a nice little pile of burning puppy bits. They move forward. Well, expect for Jory, who's still traumatized after seeing an entire canine explode into several bits for the first time.

Jory: Just so . . . many . . . pieces . . .

Hugo: Holy shit, I just found a cache of ice cream! They have everything here!

Alistair: Look, you're not helping. Unlike yourself, Jory has never seen a walking bomb in action.

Jory: Their blood . . . everywhere . . .

Hugo: Oh, is that it? ***lick*** Yeah that usually occurs, what with, well, the fact everything you minutely touch explodes into kool aid. ***lick*** Don't worry, they always dissapear in a fit of fairy dust whenever you pass a loading screen. ***lick*** But you need to scrub underneath, since it never seems to reach there. Oh, and you may need to scrub particularly between the legs. ESPECIALLY between the legs.

Jory: GGAAHHGGGHFFH!

Alistair: NOT HELPING!

Hugo: What? ***lick*** Ice cream?

After extensive last minute mini-therapy (which Alistair learned from some nuns) they get Jory on his feet while the player gets Daveth to lug around their cache of ice cream. They then come across what seems like the site of a massacre, with a surprising amount of dead cows.

Hugo: Oh . . . that's where the ice-cream came from. *throws into nearest bush*

Soldier: Ugh, you . . . in the dress . . . please help.

Hugo: You know, "you in the dress" isn't going to get you very many friends.

Alistair: We're here. What happened?

Soldier: We we're ambushed. The darkspawn . . . they just sprung for the attack.

Hugo: I don't know. I don't think we should really bother with him.

Alistair: Why not, we have bandages.

Hugo: Well, yeah but by the looks of it, I think the guy is going to need a bit more than some hot coco and a Dora band aid to get back on his feet. Its fairly obvious that the man is close to dieing and there's no point in changing the inveitable. Even if we somehow manage to get him safely back to camp, he'll just end up dieing on the battlefield anyways due to being too weak to fight. If we kill him now, at least we're being merciful.

Alistair: But what about magic healing abilities? I'm sure that you as a mage have some.

Hugo: Ha, oh I'm sorry, but I just don't happen to have a vagina. No can do on that department. But what I do have is this really cool looking murder knife.

Alistair: Look, don't you think that just killing him would be-

Hugo: ***CCHHKK*** Oh noes, it slipped! Woopy doo. Oh and it landed in his jugular. Silly me.

Alistair: . . . You're really kind of an ass, aren't you?

Hugo: ***pulls knife back out*** Ah, and only now you've figured that out.

Jory: By the maker's willy, this is insane! An entire group was ambushed by darkspawn! What will become of us?

Hugo: Cut up. Shot at. Torn apart. Eaten. Not much besides that though. They aren't the most creative lumps of coal when it comes to blight's of terror.

Jory: I mean anything that doesn't envolve dieing!

Hugo: Please, a few dirty looking fellows don't exactly spell D-O-O-M. I'm sure if you were in any real danger, you'd just high tail your way to Antiva and indulge yourself in a few margiritas and flaming homosexuals.

Alistair: No one in my group is going to go fondle flamboyent assassins! Look, me being a grey warden, my warden senses will go a tingling once we get near any darkspawn, so you shouldn't worry.

Hugo: "A tingling"? What are you, a vibrator?

Alistair: You shush.

Daveth: Oh so no worries Jory. We'll die, but Ser Alistair here will tingle before it happens.

Jory: That's . . . Reassuring.

The band then begin their search. And by search, randomly wandering the forest until crazy shit pops up and messes with the fine china. But before then, the player fills in their time by fulfilling their wholesome hobby of stealing heirlooms from dead priest guys.

Alistair: That's an oddly specific hobby.

Hugo: Well, next to examining the insides of animals for wal-mart coupons, it's all rather gratifying. Ooh look, there's one over in the creek!

Alistair: Er, are you sure you want go after him? He's just kind of . . . Marinating there.

Hugo: Sounds delicious. Anyways, ***Invades private areas, which would count as sexual harrasment if the guy weren't dead, so its just kind of creepy*** let's see what we have here. Tomes of the maker, novelty ash replica, Andraste pin-up books, a wallet, oh hey, a letter.

Alistair: Hey, there's something called respect of property.

Hugo: Hey, there's something called shut your face. Now let's see, "Dear son guy, I so proud of you for going into a dangerous dark-spawn infested forest with absolutely no armor or protection to go preach to some barbarians who hold the maker to the same relevance as a pissed off Santa clause, your awesome, I love you, blah blah blagh, quanari lawsuits, blah blah, your adopted, blah blah, something about brownies and porn, blah blah blaghh."

Alistair: Wait, what about brownies and porn?

Hugo: Yeah, I have no idea. Anyways, I think we got ourselves a sidequest.

Alistair: Yay! Wait, what do you mean-

The player continues to, in every aspect of the meaning, basically screw around. From inspecting more dead priest guys, to bludgeoning wolves to death, collecting pretty flowers. Eventually, the player realizes they should probably transition from killing wolves to darkspawn before Daveth starts crying.

Hugo: Ok, so here's the plan: Jory, you run in, Leroy Jenkins style, swing you're sword around a bunch and hope that you hit something in. Awesome plan? Yes? Of course it is. You can give me a cookie later.

Jory: Wait, no, are you serious? I'll just die out there.

Alistair: Dieing would be baaad.

Hugo: Alright, alright, fine, Daveth will do it.

Daveth: YEAAH! Wait, what's a Leroy?

Hugo: Any objections?

Jory: . . . I got nothing.

Hugo: Great. So Daveth, are you prepared?

Daveth: ***still pondering*** Is it like a type of fruit or . . .

Hugo: Excellent! I'm glad you're willing to sacrifice for sake 3 other people that just met a few hours ago. I'm sure once you get savagely murdered by darkspawn, the maker will provide you with all the clouds, virgins, kittens, etc. you wish for.

Daveth: - So you do you guys want me turn into a fruit when ***Is punted unwillingly into darkspawn territory*** GAAGGHH!

Meanwhile,

Darkspawn1: So . . . got any Queens?

Darkspawn2: Well, I got this one guy in a dress.

Darkspawn1: That's a king.

Darkspawn2: They both wear dresses, so your arguement isn't very-

Daveth interrupts by crashing into the scene.

Darkspawn1: Uh . . . Sup?

Daveth: GGAAGGHHFFIFJFKVSRKBS-!

* * *

Alistair: It doesnt really look like Daveth is doing anything.

Hugo: Nosense. He's doing just peaches.

* * *

Darkspawn: Whoa, dude, do want like, a puppy or something, cause we have a bunch of those. Though half them were recently . . . blown up.

Daveth: GAAGGHHSFJSDJNDFK-!

* * *

Alistair: No, he's just kind of screaming.

Hugo: Well we can't all be perfect. Hey, while Daveth was pissing himself, I found this cool bag of sand. Apparently if you sprinkle them on some rocks, cool shit happens.

Alistair: That's not the most descriptive of rituals.

Hugo: What else there to say? Some shit will happen. And it will also happen to be cool.

Jory: Oh come on Ser Alistair, Ser Amell is obviously delus-

Alistair: - You got a good point there.

Jory: OH SMACK ME IN THE COOTCH AND CALL ME A WITCH, FANTASTIC!

The merry trio make there way to some rocks while Jory writes his last will and testament on a nearby napkin.

Alistair: So what's suppose to exactly happen? Is there going to be a rainbow or a unicorn or-

Hugo: Are you kidding me? This is dragon age may I remind you. The rainbows would spread plague and the unicorns would probably stab everyone to death.

Alistair: Oh. That would be baaad.

Hugo: Yep. ***Sprinkles sand on rocks*** But I'm sure that whatever comes out of here would be like-

A demon pops up, looking angry and awfully demon-y

Garzarth: WHO DARES INTERUPT MY SLUMBER?

Hugo: Oh fu- sorry, sorry, we didn't mean to get dirt on your pile of rocks. I swear, we'll clean it Mr. Demon guy. Jory, lick the rocks clean!

Jory: But I don't-

Hugo: LICK IT DAMMIT!

The team throws whatever they can at the demon, while Jory vigorously licks pebbles. It's all a very interesting scene. Though it only last for about 15 seconds.

Hugo: So yeeaahh, you actually didn't have to lick the rocks clean when I realized that Alistair is a trained Templar and I'm a harrowed Mage, making the battle extremely easy and pitiful. I hope were still cool beans though.

Jory: ***with a swollen tongue*** Ohf jusstf FUUFK YOUFF ALGG!

Hugo: Cool beans then.

The group eventually figure to see if Daveth has the gotten the samples.

Daveth: GAAAGGHHJGGGGJKDS-!

Darkspawn: Oh thank the maker you're here. He hasn't shut up for the past hour. We've tried throwing samples of our blood at him, but then he switches to crying, and then everyone just feels awkward.

Hugo: Oh, I'm sincerely sorry about that. He does that a lot. Hey why don't I just take the Daveth and the blood samples and be one our way?

Darkspawn: Yes, please. We were in the middle of a card game involving dudes and dresses.

Hugo: Yeah, sorry about that. I just happen to punt him in here so he can, well you know, kill you all.

Darkspawn: Yeah, we get that a lot. It's alright though. Hey, you guys are pretty cool, maybe we'll spare you from being ripped apart at Ostagar. Though I just noticed, you smell a lot like us.

Hugo: Oh yeah, we're Grey wardens. ***pause*** OH YEAH, we're grey wardens.

The player than promptly lights all of them on fire. At first, the player wants to feels slightly sad, but is to distracted by the gratuitous fuck-load of exp. points.

Just as a reminder, this all happens within a span of 30 minutes.

* * *

**30 minutes I will never get back.**


End file.
